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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176851">The Lure of Darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thompsra/pseuds/Thompsra'>Thompsra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shadows in Moonlight [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:49:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thompsra/pseuds/Thompsra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Queen of the Damned. The Dark Curse has been cast, creating Storybrooke in its wake. When an unforeseen complication threatens the town's very existence, it's up to Robin of Locksley and a ten-year-old child to keep the pitchforks at bay.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood, Hades/Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shadows in Moonlight [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Welcome to Storybrooke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>The Land Without Magic</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Storybrooke, 2001</strong>
</p><p>To the children born under the curse, the evil queen was a myth: a nightmarish and horrifying legend meant to instill in them an intense fear of the dark. They had listened, wide-eyed in their beds, as their parents spun frightful stories of the monstrous Queen Regina and her gruesome reign, too terrified to go to sleep. The older children, meanwhile, would have dreams of the monarch drenched in blood and growling in delight, feeding off their helpless bodies with fervor. Yet they were told, repeatedly, that as long as they remained inside after sundown, they were safe and had nothing to worry about. Vampires had to be invited in.</p><p>            It didn’t matter that the queen had died shortly before the curse was cast- the townspeople were convinced that she clawed her way out of the mausoleum every night in search of her next meal, forever seeking vengeance against those responsible for her death. Therefore, the aforementioned mausoleum and the woods surrounding it were taboo, as most were too superstitious to go near it. Most.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Boston, Massachusetts</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tufts Medical Center, 2001</strong>
</p><p>Hundreds of miles from Storybrooke, a young newlywed couple were about to bring their first child into the world. Eighteen year-old Emma Swan had met twenty year-old Neal Cassidy Mills as a freshman at Northeastern University and was immediately charmed by his charisma and slightly rebellious nature. They began dating her second year, to the disapproval of her parents, and married shortly after her graduation. With hardly any money from their post-graduate internships, they moved into an apartment in Lower Roxbury and made it work. A few months later, Emma became pregnant and quit her job as a novice bail bond agent to prepare for the baby’s arrival.</p><p>            When the day came, Neal was more nervous than Emma was. He had all but herded his wife into their vintage yellow Volkswagen beetle and floored it to the hospital, swept up in a fifteen hour whirlwind of doctors, nurses, and questions. It felt like an eternity, but once the clock on the wall struck 8:15 exactly on August 15, Emma’s contractions dialed up to an eleven and she started pushing.</p><p>            “You’re doing great, take deep breaths.” Neal encouraged as he held her hand, trying to stay calm when he was anything but.</p><p>            Emma merely grunted and squeezed her eyes shut from the onslaught on pain, blocking out everything but the doctor’s instructions.</p><p>            “…one more big push and you’ll have him in your arms.” It was all she focused on- the promise of an end to the living hell she was in. So she pushed.</p><p>            As her screams filled the air, and soon her son’s as well, the overhead lights flickered briefly in a surge of energy.</p><p>            “It’s definitely a boy, congratulations!” The doctor exclaimed while holding the screaming infant, handing him off to his sweaty and exhausted mother. “What’s the little guy’s name?”</p><p>            The blonde glanced over at her husband, who simply nodded, transfixed by the sight of his newborn son. “It’s Henry.” She breathed, holding a finger out for the baby to grasp. “Henry Daniel Mills.”</p><p>            As they gazed with wonder at their tiny miracle, hearts full of all the hopes and dreams of every loving parent, they were blissfully ignorant of fate’s plan for the child: Henry Mills was destined to become the savior of a colorful little seaside town in Maine that would prove to be anything but ordinary.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>The Land Without Magic</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Storybrooke, 1983</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Days Post-Curse: 1</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>108 Mifflin Street</strong>
</p><p>She was going to <em>murder</em> that damn princess for killing her daughter. Never mind the Forest Prince or whatever he liked to call himself, Cora was going to personally see to it that Leopold’s imbecilic teenager suffered a slow and painful death for her transgressions. For it was <em>her </em>fault that she was trapped in a realm without her magic and without the luxuries she was accustomed to.</p><p>“That insolent child!” The former Queen of Hearts yelled as she disappeared into the master bathroom, ignoring the bewildered expression on her husband’s face. “Just like her righteous father!” Cora hissed, glaring at the unfamiliar modern fixtures attached to the shower. “Not a single redeeming quality about that naïve, wide-eyed…”</p><p>Henry saw fit to interrupt his wife’s tirade before she spun herself into a blind rage and shifted her focus to the only other occupant of the mansion. “Brat?” He finished from the doorway, hoping it would placate her and make her more receptive of his inquiry. “Is this truly about Snow White, or are you irate that we no longer have servants to draw your bath?”</p><p>            She scoffed, and it was the mere thought of lowly physical labor that kept Cora from strangling him with her bare hands. “How hypocritical of you.” She resumed staring at the shower, as if her glare would magically summon a stream of hot water from within.</p><p>            “It was merely an observation, my dear. I am well aware of my background.” He stepped forward to assist his wife with her frustrations, but she waved him off.</p><p>            “Keep your observations to yourself, Henry, unless one of them happens to be the answer to how one bathes in this accursed realm!” Cora snapped as she stormed off, deciding that her energy would be better served dressing herself in familiar corsets and gowns.</p><p>             Holding his hands up in surrender, Regina’s father dutifully trailed behind his wife’s retreating form. “Understand that I am also finding it difficult to adjust to this realm, Cora.” He followed her to their bedroom, where she immediately ordered him to fetch her the cushioned stool from the vanity so she could properly inspect the contents of her armoire. “We are in some strange village without our daughter, our only daughter, and you can’t be bothered to acknowledge that she ever existed!”</p><p>            The brunette tensed on her makeshift throne, elevated above the pile of clothes she was sorting through, simultaneously indignant at his accusation and wholly chastened by the reminder. Cora couldn’t deny that she had been a terrible mother to Regina, she had her newly returned heart to thank for that, but what Henry wanted was impossible. No amount of reminiscing would bring back the dead, so why should she surrender to weak sentimentalities and risk all she worked for?</p><p>Ignoring her husband, whose mouth was set in a deep frown, the Queen of Hearts went about her task only to gasp in horror upon discovering that there would be no corsets or gowns in her near future. “I’d rather die than be caught wearing <em>this</em> in public!” Cora proclaimed in disgust as she held up the offending garment, lacy bra straps dangling from her fingers. “I mean really Henry, do these philistines even know the meaning of propriety?”</p><p>“I don’t believe it’s meant to be worn among the people, my dear.” The weathered king was unable to completely hide his disdain for the current topic, mouth curled into a slight frown. “But perhaps your unwanted firstborn may be of more assistance than I.”  </p><p>Cora pursed her lips. “Somehow I doubt that.” She rose to her feet, disregarding the unkempt heap at the foot of the bed. “Zelena puts more on display than a common tavern wench.”</p><p>            Henry sighed in exasperation. “My point still stands. She is your sole surviving daughter.”</p><p>            “Yes alright, Henry!” The Queen of Hearts snapped. “If it will get you to quit sniveling, I will pay her and her egotistical fiancé a visit.” She didn’t particularly care to do so at the moment, but subjecting herself further to her husband’s moral superiority was not an option. “As soon as I find out where they reside in this uncultured hovel.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>13 West Rosedale Avenue</strong>
</p><p>Her rest had not been peaceful. She wasn’t foolish enough to expect that it would be, but she was not prepared to suffer the uniquely disorienting consequences of the Dark Curse. The wickedly talented sorceress didn’t have the ability to sleep in the traditional sense, and as such she lingered in a transitional mental state until the clouds had settled in the realm of the mundane.</p><p>As she awoke in the old Victorian mansion on the corner of Rosedale and Hawthorn, Zelena was suddenly painfully aware of the concentrated burning in her throat. “Hades…” the sorceress croaked, too weak to do anything but tangle herself further in the bedsheets.</p><p>“Hades!” When her cries went unanswered, Zelena started to desperately claw at her unnaturally pale neck. She needed to feed, but the house was as silent as a crypt. There was nothing she could do to alleviate the throbbing.</p><p>With a primal howl, the redhead impulsively and instinctually sunk her fangs into the meat of her forearm. That’s when her ice blue eyes snapped open, hissing at both the self-inflicted pain and the intensity of the sunlight filling the room. It was too much all at once, and she had to leave. Immediately.</p><p>The inhumane and feral part of her roared to life, possessing her mind and body with the fervor and tenacity of a demon. She fled the mansion in a burst of speed as adrenaline coursed through her undead veins, thriving on the thrill of the hunt. And in that moment, consumed by unrestrained bloodlust, Zelena was more dangerous than the Dark One himself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Thousand Oak Forest</strong>
</p><p>As a child, Robin idolized the majesty of the grey wolf. They were calculated hunters capable of killing prey twice their size, yet they would often prefer to simply chase after their chosen target for practice. He remembered begging his tutors to take him outside castle grounds to see this for himself, the sizing up of potential quarry, but his father forbid it for being too dangerous. Now, he understood why: wolves were nocturnal animals, and a ten-year-old was much more likely to get injured venturing through the woods after dark. Given that fact, Robin’s blood ran cold the minute he awoke in the cursed realm.</p><p>“Do you hear that, John?” The prince whispered into his friend’s ear, frantically attempting to rouse him. There it was again, the spine-tingling howl of a wolf.</p><p>Little John grumbled unimpressed. “Wolves howl, Your Highness.” The burly man rolled away from Robin and snuggled further into his odd bed roll.</p><p>“That’s just it, John. They howl <em>at night! </em>Look what time it is.” The prince watched him extract himself from the warmth of the sack and draw back the flap of their tent.</p><p>“Why, it’s morning!” He exclaimed, eyes widening in alarm. “What in the bloody hell are they doing out at dawn?”</p><p>Robin frowned, mind racing with possibilities. “Something must have alerted them.” He had no idea what, bears possibly, but his gut told him that wasn’t the case. “We need to tell the others.”</p><p>“Right.” Little John nodded, looking grim. “We’re not safe out here. Let’s get a move on.”</p><p>The two men exited the tent with caution, brandishing the flashlights they found inside as a rudimentary weapon. “What <em>are</em> these?” Robin asked as he toyed with it, flinching when his switched on.</p><p>“Strange flameless torches, it would seem.” The larger of the two men deadpanned, more focused on whatever was stalking the forest this early in the day. “Now shut your trap and start looking for their encampments!”</p><p>            Robin hesitated. He was, of course, worried about Will, Alan, Much, and the rest of the Merry Men, but the near constant howling of the wolves terrified him. Were they successfully tracking the mysterious threat, or were they crying out in fear?</p><p>            Sensing his distress, Little John went on ahead. “Forget the bloody wolves, we’re wasting daylight!” He bemoaned to the prince trailing behind. “The men are more than capable of fending for themselves in the meantime, Your Highness.”</p><p>            Robin was not amused. “And your lumbering footsteps are entirely too loud!” He complained as they ventured deeper into the forest. “It probably already knows where we are!”</p><p>            “Yet I’m not the one shouting.” Little John quipped. “All your hollering likely scared it off.” He nearly rolled his eyes at the paranoid royal.</p><p>            “Fair point.” The archer conceded as they continued their search, falling silent for the next twenty minutes. When it became clear that they were unlikely to find the others before midday, Robin suggested that they rest for a bit.</p><p>            Sat upon tree stumps, the pair were in the midst of discussing their next move when a red blur flashed across Robin’s vision. “Bloody hell!” His eyes widened in alarm as he blinked in rapid succession. “What was that?”</p><p>            Little John looked around in an attempt to spot whatever had startled his friend. “I don’t know.” When nothing materialized, he began to wonder if Robin was hallucinating. “Are you sure you saw something?”</p><p>            “Positive. It was like fire.” Robin rose to his feet, flashlight in hand. “It must be the beast!”</p><p>            “Oh for the love of the gods, mate!” The more rational of the two groaned in frustration. “No creature moves that fast.” He was about to tell Robin to sit back down when they heard a deep growl in the distance.</p><p>            Vindicated, the archer without a bow crossed his arms and stood waiting for an apology. “Still think I’m paranoid, John?”</p><p>            In lieu of a response, the bear of a man simply grunted.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>13 West Rosedale Avenue</strong>
</p><p>Hades was of the firm opinion that Robin of Locksley was a fool. The grieving prince reminded him of Orpheus in that regard, as neither one of them were able to accept the absolute nature of death. He remembered being surprised by the mortal musician’s boldness, daring to plead for the return of his wife’s soul, but it was his then-lover Persephone that had persuaded him to compromise: if Orpheus could refrain from looking at Eurydice until he reached the surface of the Underworld, her soul would be released.</p><p>            When Orpheus fell to temptation, Lord Death’s disdain for the human race grew. He found Prometheus’ wretched creations to be weak, entitled, and wholly undeserving of his rule. Of this he was certain. Throughout the centuries, his dealings with mortals had taught Hades that Regina’s fiancé would make the same fatal mistakes as his ancient ancestors. And in the end, the infamous god of the Underworld was proven right.</p><p>            The young naïve archer was seduced by yet another of the Dark One’s manipulations. Blinded by hope, Robin cast a curse he had little knowledge of and unleashed the supernatural on a doomed mundane realm. Hades was indifferent to the creation of Storybrooke itself, but vampires and werewolves were a general nuisance to him because they found a way to cheat death and undermine his divine authority. He also didn’t appreciate how their excessive bloodlust upset his carefully maintained balance of souls in the Underworld: Ares he was not.</p><p>            However, his contempt for vampires did not include his beloved fiancée, who would soon be awake and thirsting for his blood. Lord Death loved Zelena more than anything else in the cosmos, but he refused to further enable her growing addiction by allowing her to drink from him. She would simply have to lower her standards and accept the meal he provided for her; Hades was half-inclined to offer up Forest Boy for putting them in this situation. It was almost sunrise, after all, and he was by no means a benevolent man.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Market Street</strong>
</p><p>            Meanwhile, across town, the manager of Second Star Coffee was preparing his employees for their first opening shift. Felix was fairly young for a manager, only 18, but his strong work ethic had landed him the job after a few months as a barista. Nerves aside, the teenager was confident that he and his team would be able to handle the morning rush.</p><p>            “Thirty minutes to open!” Felix yelled from behind the bar as he went about brewing coffee, practically tripping over himself to have everything ready on time. “Who’s stocking the pastry case?”</p><p>            As if on cue, a dark-haired teenager emerged from the depths of the storage room wiping his hands on an apron. “Sorry boss, but it looks like we’re short on cinnamon raisin bagels.” He explained as Felix groaned. “If you have more order forms with you I’ll just fill one out right now.”</p><p>            The 18-year old was about to open the drawer and give Thomas a stack, but his stomach sank upon remembering that he had most likely left them at home. “Unfortunately, I don’t.” This time it was the brunette’s turn to groan. “I’m almost positive I left them in my room, but I can go search my car.”</p><p>            “Man, Wendy’s going to explode!” Thomas remarked as he started to arrange the indoor furniture. “You know how meticulous she is with the bookkeeping!”</p><p>            Felix grimaced. “I’ll handle it. Just keep an eye on the espresso machine while I’m gone, will you?” He turned on his heel and exited the store in a flash, determined to have the forms in hand before they opened.      </p><p> </p><p>            That task was easier said than done. As he crossed the parking lot in pursuit of his beat up Honda Civic, Felix regretted treating his car like a mobile dumpster. About a year’s worth of Big Mac wrappers, soda cans, and receipts littered the passenger seat, making his job ten times harder than it had to be. Key in hand, the teen unlocked the driver’s side door with a prolonged sigh, yanked it open, and dove into the mountain of trash that was potentially harboring the order forms.</p><p>            “I really, really need to clean this piece of junk.” The blond muttered as he tossed yet another McDonald’s receipt into the back. “And stop eating so much fast food.” But as the pile beside him shrunk and the one behind him grew, Felix began to realize that his efforts were futile: the forms were nowhere to be seen.</p><p>            Just as he made peace with his findings, the blond felt a rough pair of hands grab hold of his shirt and forcibly remove him from the driver’s seat. “What the- hey!” He yelled as he wildly punched the air, blindsided by the sudden act of aggression. “Get your hands off me!”</p><p>            His unknown assailant merely chuckled and threw him to the ground. “As you wish.” The man’s tone carried a hint of amusement, and Felix shuddered: whoever this guy was, he enjoyed hurting people. This wasn’t a simple carjacking.</p><p>             “Listen, I don’t want any trouble.” The teen asserted as he slowly got to his feet, enabling him to observe the stranger for the first time. He appeared to be a tall, dark-haired businessman wearing an obviously expensive suit, but the longer he stared, the more he wanted to run for the hills. It was almost an instinctual fear.</p><p>Choosing flight over fight, all Felix wanted was to escape the encounter with his life. “If it’s my car you want,” he guessed, eyeing the older man wearily, “the keys are on the passenger’s seat.”</p><p>            The teen’s fear quickly turned to anger at his rather rude response. “I have no interest in your poor excuse for a vehicle.” The well-dressed brunette sneered, his piercing dark eyes sizing Felix up intently. “But you, on the other hand, are just what I’m looking for.”</p><p>            “And you are an elitist bastard!” Felix snapped. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police on your ass!” He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans containing his phone and yelped when he felt the stranger painfully grip his from the outside.</p><p>            “The police have no power over me, young mortal. No one does.” He smirked, using his free hand to force Felix to meet his gaze. “You may know me as Hades, Lord of the Underworld.”</p><p>            The blond was prepared to declare the man insane, but his strange accent, combined with the unexplained bone-chilling terror he currently felt, was enough to convince Felix otherwise. He went into shock as the supposed god summoned a dark cloud out of thin air and transported them to the abandoned mansion on Rosedale Avenue.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>13 West Rosedale Avenue</strong>
</p><p>            <em>Oh, well isn’t this positively dreadful! </em>Cora thought as she approached the antiquated and neglected home of her firstborn. <em>My daughter, the Queen of the Underworld, living like a destitute pauper. </em>Her disgust grew as she ascended the front steps; its worn floorboards creaking under the heels of her Versace boots. <em>I will be having a word with Hades about appearances. </em></p><p>Announcing her presence with a sharp knock, the new mayor of Storybrooke stood on the rickety porch and waited to be received, appalled by the fine layer of dust lingering on her manicured hands. And when her soon to be son-in-law opened the door, minutes later, he was not his usual self.</p><p>            Perplexed by his shaken demeanor, Cora felt the need to make an inquiry. “Why Hades, you look an absolute state!” She remarked as she invited herself inside. “Did my daughter finally wear you out?”</p><p>            His expression was grim. “<em>Zelena</em> is missing.” The god corrected as he slowly lowered himself into a tattered wingback chair. “I don’t believe you understand the severity of the situation we’re in.”</p><p>            “Certainly not.” The refined brunette elected to remain on her feet, wrinkling her nose at the threadbare sofa. “I was under the impression that the divine were unaffected by curses. Surely you can use your omnipotence to locate her?”</p><p>            Hades had a vice-like grip on the armrests, clearly frustrated with himself. “My powers are currently limited.” Living in Storybrooke, he discovered, was going to be an adjustment. “But even if I could, it may be too late for the town.”</p><p>            “You’re not suggesting that she’s…” Cora couldn’t even bear to utter it. The Dark Curse was supposed to bring them to a land without magic. What Hades was indicating should be impossible.</p><p>            “Still a vampire.” Hades finished. “And as I said before, missing.”</p><p>            The Queen of Hearts was still processing the news when there came a muffled scream from upstairs. And though it wasn’t a feminine scream, it lead Cora to conclude that, at present, there was more going on than he was relaying. “Like that poor boy you seem to have kidnapped?”  </p><p>            Lord Death grimaced. “Ah, yes. Felix.” He dismissively gestured to the second floor of the house where his hostage was making all kinds of noise. “He was supposed to be Zelena’s breakfast, but she was gone by the time I returned.”</p><p>            Cora hummed in reply. “Well we must find her, Hades. Before she slaughters the entire town.” The brunette began to leave, intent on solving the problem in a matter of hours. “Where does one go when faced with a desire for blood?”</p><p>            “The forest isn’t far from here.” Hades suggested as he followed her. “It’s likely she went after the closest thing with a pulse.”</p><p>            “Lovely.” Cora remarked with disgust. “Is it too much to hope that she make her next meal out of the Prince of Pinecones?”</p><p>            Hades chuckled as they exited the mansion, locking the door behind them. “Not at all.” He was reminded of Felix’s predicament by his traveling companion, but he couldn’t say that he cared enough to release the boy. There were more pressing issues at hand.</p><p>            “Although I will say,” the god flippantly added in closing, “if Zelena decides to feed on Robin of Locksley, we’ll be able to hear Regina from her tomb.”  </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Thousand Oak Forest</strong>
</p><p>While Robin and Little John continued their hunt for the creature, the rest of the Merry Men were debating on whether or not to send out a search party for their missing friends. It was uncharacteristic of the prince to take off without warning, some argued, though others believed he had simply needed some fresh air and company.</p><p>“Oh for the love of the king!” Will Stutely yelled, exasperated, as he made his opinion known for the tenth time. “Robin’s gone hunting with John before, they’re not bloody children!”</p><p>Friar Tuck scoffed. “In an unfamiliar forest?” He looked to Will Scarlet for backup. “They could be in serious trouble, and we’re standing around bickering like a bunch of old hens?”</p><p>“Tuck’s right.” The younger man conceded, leaning against his tent that he decided was made out of some strange animal skin. “We’re in uncharted territory, and wasting valuable daylight.”</p><p>“Well I think we’re jumping to conclusions.” Much grumbled from his fallen log. “But if it makes everyone feel better, I’m willing to go look for them.” He was in full belief that it was far too early in the morning for this amount of drama.  </p><p>“As am I.” Alan-a-Dale said, siding with their most seasoned warrior. “What are you all afraid of, a pride of mountain lions?”</p><p>Not two minutes later, a deep growl tore through the area, renewing the concerns of Tuck and Will Scarlet.</p><p>“Mountain lion my arse, Alan!” Will yelled as he dove back into his tent for cover. “What in the hell was that?”</p><p>Much went on high alert and reached for his bow. “Nothing good.” He signaled for the men to prepare for an attack. “Sounds like it’s headed for the camp.”</p><p>Everyone froze, holding their breath in anticipation of another growl. The tension was high, and when none came they foolishly assumed that the animal had moved on. They were wrong.</p><p>The same red blur that Robin had witnessed appeared out of nowhere and launched itself at the newest member of the Merry Men: sixteen-year-old David of Doncaster.</p><p>He never got the chance to scream.    </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Main Street</strong>
</p><p><em>You want it.</em> She tore through Storybrooke at breakneck speed, desperately searching for anything that would bring an end to the burning pain in her throat. <em>You need it. </em>It was growing more intense with each step, threatening to consume her if she didn’t quench it immediately. <em>You must have it. </em></p><p>When nothing in town called out to her, the redhead nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But then she smelled potential salvation- the seductive promise of fresh blood. <em>You must stake your claim!</em></p><p>There was no stopping her. Zelena followed the scent deep into the forest, growling involuntarily as she drew closer to her target. <em>Maim him. Bite him. </em>Unable to endure the suffering any longer, the Wicked Witch blindly lunged at her victim and sunk her fangs into his tender flesh. <em>Kill him. </em></p><p>Zelena pinned the boy to the ground in one swift move, oblivious to her surroundings as she voraciously drank from him. If he screamed, she didn’t notice, as she was too engrossed in her meal.</p><p>Off in the distance, the redhead heard faint shouts that sounded like “Get off of him!” and “Do you have a death wish?”. Annoyed that she had been disturbed, Zelena removed herself from her prey and instantly locked eyes with her furious mother.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Thousand Oak Forest</strong>
</p><p>“Get off of him!” The panicked shout made Robin’s adrenaline surge as he and John reached the campsite. Breaking into a cold sweat, the prince ran toward the commotion and stopped dead in his tracks. The Merry Men were in distress, that much was obvious, but it was next to impossible to see the cause of it all beyond their protective huddle.          </p><p>Alarmed, Robin pushed through the barrier and let out a wail. The creature they had been tracking was bent over David and in the process of sucking him dry, except the beast turned out to be Regina’s deranged sister.</p><p>            “No!” The archer was distraught as he stared at the sorceress in horror, impulsively reaching for his nonexistent bow. “Dammit Zelena, what the hell is wrong with you?” All the attention was on him as he prepared to pull the redhead off of his lifeless friend, whether she was finished or not.</p><p>            Robin was inches away from the distracted vampire when he was interrupted by the arrival of her insidious mother and Lord Death himself. “Are you mad, Locksley, or do you have a death wish?” The sharp reprimand from the older woman compelled him to back away from Zelena with his hands in the air.</p><p>            “Point taken.” He acquiesced. “But, if I may add, your lovely daughter just murdered one of my men. Do you really expect me to stand by and do nothing?”</p><p>            “Yes.” Cora replied through clenched teeth, glaring daggers at Zelena. “She would have attacked you without a second thought. In front of everyone.”</p><p>            The redhead in question scoffed, no longer possessed by a primal desire for blood. “She’s right here!” Zelena yelled as she slowly got to her feet, amused when her audience took more than a few steps back. “Honestly, mother! You act as if I slaughtered an entire village!”</p><p>            Robin braced himself for a full blown argument to break out between the two women, as per usual, but was relieved when Hades shouldered the burden himself by walking up to his fiancée and pulling her into his embrace. “Cora has good reason to be concerned, my love.” He reasoned, caressing her bloodstained face. “You could have been killed.”</p><p>“By Robin’s band of forest dwellers?” She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous scenario. “Hades, I am a witch!”</p><p>            “Who is powerless in this realm.” The god finished, silently pleading with her to take the issue seriously. “You’re lucky that they were too afraid to do you serious harm!”</p><p>            Zelena bit her lip, suddenly nervous. “Powerless?” The thought was terrifying. “Then how am I still…this?” She bared her fangs for effect.</p><p>            “The supernatural and magical do not always intersect.” Hades led them away from the scene of the crime, joining Robin and Cora at the far end of the campsite. “So you see, my darling, why it is imperative that the rest of Storybrooke remain ignorant about your condition.”</p><p>            Cora nodded. “This complicates everything.” She was so disgusted with Zelena’s behavior that she almost couldn’t look at her. “When more townspeople inevitably go missing each month, people will start to get suspicious.”</p><p>            Robin hated every second of this conversation. “Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but how else is the wicked one supposed to survive?” He sneered in her direction, still deciding on whether or not to forgive her for earlier.</p><p>            “Rumple.” Cora simply stated, looking as miserable as Robin felt. “He’ll have started on a solution by now, knowing him.”</p><p>            Zelena nearly flew into a rage. “What?” She hissed. “You want to consult the monster that damned me in the first place?”</p><p>            “We are out of options, Zelena!” Cora snapped. “Had you not lost control, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” The brunette was seriously considering locking her daughter up and throwing away the key.</p><p>            “He is your sire.” Hades added, stroking the redhead’s arm in a calming fashion. “And as such, he is technically responsible for you.”</p><p>            Robin couldn’t argue with that. “I’m in.” He declared, to their surprise. “It’s about time the Dark One was held accountable for his actions.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop</strong>
</p><p><em>Great power requires great sacrifice. </em>Rumplestiltskin reminded himself as he strolled through the entrance of his pawn shop and tossed his ornamental cane aside. <em>What’s done is done. </em>The blood of the Dark One’s latest victim still dripped from his mouth, staining his pristine silk tie.</p><p>            “Rumple?” Came the voice of Belle from the back of the shop. “Is that you?”</p><p>            “Indeed, my dear.” He walked behind the counter and began wiping down the glass display case to perfection. “Has anyone stopped by?” At the telltale sound of heels on wood,  Rumplestiltskin licked his lips and drew his suit jacket closed in order to avoid frightening her.</p><p>            “Not yet.” The studious brunette replied, carrying a stack of books. “But we just opened an hour or two ago. It’s still early.”</p><p>            Satisfied, the Dark One resumed his task of tidying up the shop. From what he had encountered that morning, he was on track to have quite the eventful day.</p><p> </p><p>            Twenty minutes later, the bell rang, announcing the arrival of two of his least favorite people. Cora was enraged, he could tell just by looking at her, but Locksley was harder to read. His expression was guarded, making it difficult for the vampire to discern his true emotions.</p><p>            “Gold!” The Queen of Hearts demanded as she stormed  up to the counter. “We have a problem.”</p><p>            “Do we?” He decided to play coy. “I seem to recall no opposition to the curse, or has someone had a change of heart?”</p><p>            It was the forest boy that answered him. “One of my men was attacked this morning. By your protégée.” He divulged, describing the horrific incident to the best of his ability.</p><p>             “Just one?” The vampire remarked, quickly becoming bored with Robin’s story. “Where is Zelena now?”</p><p>            “With Hades.” Cora replied. “They had other issues at home.” She decided that telling the Dark One about Felix was pointless, as the boy was likely already dead.</p><p>            “Yes, I’m sure they did.” Rumplestiltskin mused. “So why exactly are you bringing this to my attention?”</p><p>            Robin stood firm. “Because she’s your responsibility!” He growled, just as frustrated with the Dark One as he had been in the Enchanted Forest. “Did you forget to teach her self-control?”</p><p>             “Zelena <em>did </em>exercise control.” Rumplestiltskin emphasized, growing irritated. “A newborn would have massacred townspeople by the dozen.”  </p><p>            Cora was not amused. “Be that as it may, it can’t happen again.” She stared him down, daring him to challenge her.</p><p>            “No, I suppose not.” He agreed, to her surprise. “Attracting suspicion may cause the curse to lift early.” </p><p>            At the end of her patience, the mayor lunged across the register and seized the Dark One by his ruined tie. “Enough about the curse!” She seethed. “I will not be embarrassed by my bloodthirsty savage of a daughter!”</p><p>            Rumplestiltskin giggled, baring his own set of fangs. “Well then, dearie,” he wickedly grinned, “it’s a good thing she’s not yours anymore.”  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Seeing Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Storybrooke, Maine</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>The Mausoleum, 2006</strong>
</p><p>The Dark Curse was supposed to make Snow White suffer, but Queen Regina was the one wishing for death. A true death. Not the cold purgatory she had endured for decades on end.</p><p>“How dare you imprison me in my own dungeon?” She hissed, trapped in a memory of her last day on earth. “I’ll end your worthless life with my bare hands!” Her upper lip curled just enough to reveal the sharp instruments of death nestled within, lying in wait for a meal that never came.</p><p>            Regina could hear her father scold her for her behavior. “No need for that? It was merely a suggestion…” She weakly reached for the iron bars of her cell, confused when her hand came into contact with the cool marble of her sarcophagus. “…Daddy, something’s wrong!”</p><p>She was met with silence.</p><p>Prying her eyes open, the temporarily conscious vampire was horrified to discover that she had been entombed in some kind of crypt. With no way to know how much time had passed, Regina attempted to free herself using what remained of her supernatural strength.</p><p>“Rumple, you traitorous imp!” The monarch cursed as she strained against the confines of her prison. “Let me out!” She was growing weaker with every breath; her body ravaged by twenty-three years of malnourishment. “Rumple!”</p><p>Regina’s pleas didn’t go unheard, but she succumbed to exhaustion just as her visitor made themselves known.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>The Land Without Magic</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Storybrooke, 1983</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Days Post-Curse: 1</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Storybrooke University </strong>
</p><p>            Mary Margaret Blanchard groaned into her pillow at the sound of her alarm clock, not at all motivated to leave the comfort of her bed. She let it ring for a few cycles before her roommate mumbled something to the effect of “Turn it off already!” while throwing the blankets over her head in annoyance.</p><p>            “Sorry, Ashley.” The sophomore mumbled as she reached over her nightstand and lazily slammed the snooze button. “What time is it?”</p><p>            “Seriously?” Ashley’s response was muffled. “You always set it for 7:30.” She tossed and turned a few times before she threw in the towel altogether and emerged from her makeshift cocoon. “English with Professor McKenna, remember?”</p><p>            Mary Margaret did, unfortunately, remember. “Remind me again why I thought an 8:30 lecture was a good idea. English literature isn’t even my major!” She whined as she rolled out of bed, rubbing her eyes.</p><p>            “You missed course signups.” Ashley deadpanned. “Again.” The blonde’s patience for her cheerleader roommate was wearing thin, as Mary Margaret was the kind of girl that preferred to hang out with her track star boyfriend over studying for exams.</p><p>             “Right.” The brunette acquiesced, changing out of her pajamas. “So, what’s your day like? Animal Care 101 or something?”</p><p>            Ashley chuckled. “It’s called Animal Science.” Ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of being a world renowned veterinarian. “Requires a lot of studying. You’d hate it.”</p><p>            “Probably.” Mary Margaret agreed, remembering how she had failed out of freshman biology last year. “Well, I should go.” She grabbed her backpack off of the floor and hastily shoved her arms through the straps. “We’re having a class discussion on Grimm’s Fairy Tales, and I only sort of did the reading.”</p><p>            “Why am I not surprised?” The more studious of the two remarked as she got ready to head to the cafeteria for breakfast. “You wouldn’t know a book from a newspaper.”</p><p>            Mary Margaret gave her roommate a look of fake outrage. “I do too!” She exclaimed on her way out. “Books have pictures!”</p><p>            As the door slammed shut behind her, Ashley Boyd stared at the spot her roommate just vacated and shook her head, wondering how someone like Mary Margaret graduated from high school.</p><p>            Mary Margaret practically ran across campus to get to class on time. Breathing heavily, she sat down at a desk that was the furthest away from the chalkboard and hoped that her arrival would go unnoticed by the professor.  </p><p>            “Miss Blanchard,” Professor McKenna greeted almost immediately, “had you been a minute slower I would have marked you absent for today.” He pointedly remarked, removing a stack of lecture notes from his bag. “I believe I made my stance on attendance clear at the start of the semester, did I not?”</p><p>            The entire class fell silent out of habit, which allowed Mary Margaret to wholly embarrass herself in front of her peers. “Yes, sir.” She concurred. “It won’t happen again.”</p><p>            A snicker from one of the honors students made her pull the hood of her jacket up over her head in humiliation. It’s not as if she <em>tried </em>to be late.</p><p>            “Well, now that we’re all here,” Professor Mckenna began, taking his place at the podium, “turn to page 42 in the textbook for our class discussion on <em>Snow White</em>.”</p><p>            As everyone was retrieving their books, the brunette felt a tap on her left shoulder from none other than David Nolan, her boyfriend. “Nice going, princess.”</p><p>            “You know I hate it when you call me princess in public.” She muttered, her cheeks still flushed red from earlier. “It makes people think I’m a spoiled brat.”</p><p>            David raised an eyebrow. “Says the girl with three horses.” He teased, knowing he had about ten seconds to push her buttons. “And a vacation home.”</p><p>            “Ugh!” Mary Margaret huffed as she swiftly kicked him in the shin. “You are the worst sometimes!” She turned away from the irritating jock and returned her attention to Professor McKenna and his introductory remarks.</p><p>            “…many of you know this story thanks to the Disney film that came out in 1937.” He made a note of that on the chalkboard. “However, Walt himself chose to water down the source material quite a bit. The original, as we’re about to discover, is rather graphic.”</p><p>            Mary Margaret felt strangely uncomfortable about that. “Let’s start with the plot.” He declared, pointing to a random person in the front row. “Mr. Huntington, would you care to give us a summary?”</p><p>            The boy looked down at his desk. “So, Snow White’s mother dies in childbirth. The king remarries a narcissist and that’s the last we hear about him. Then, this women gets jealous of a seven-year-old and makes it her life goal to murder her own step-daughter. She fails and dies at the end, while Snow White marries the prince.”</p><p>            Professor Mckenna looked satisfied enough with his answer. “You missed a good chunk of the middle, but I’ll take it. Is there anything else you’d like to comment on?”</p><p>            “I mean,” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “I thought it was weird that no one had names besides Snow White.”</p><p>            Mary Margaret agreed- it was hard to envision any of the characters as actual people when the authors didn’t bother to name them. She also thought that the princess’ name was an odd choice.</p><p>            “Could it be that the brothers Grimm wanted to draw the reader’s attention to the themes of the story instead of the characters themselves?” The professor asked, moving back to the chalkboard. “Such as vanity, jealousy, and faith?”</p><p>            “Well I thought it was ridiculous that the queen was jealous of a seven-year-old.” Mary Margaret’s cheerleading captain quipped as if she thought it was the smartest thing she had ever said. “It even said she was beautiful compared to all the other women, so what was her problem?”</p><p>            “Women don’t need a problem to be mad.” One of the football jocks snickered. “They are just crazy like that.”</p><p>            Mary Margaret scoffed. “Not all of us are insecure to the  point of murder, Zach.” She rolled her eyes at their thinly veiled misogyny. “Sounds like you had a bad experience.”</p><p>            “Ahem.” Professor McKenna coughed, making his displeasure known. “Can we try and stay on topic for once, Mr. Wilson?”</p><p>            “Sorry.” The athlete mumbled, properly chastised. He scowled at Mary Margaret, who simply ignored him.</p><p>            “Anyway, we’ve brought up the vanity of the queen. You’ll also notice that she was called ‘godless’ in conjunction with her behavior. Would you say that her selfishness was the only contributing factor to being classified as the villain?”</p><p>            Mary Margaret raised her hand. “She was a witch, and back then witchcraft was considered the work of the devil.” She thought some more on that fact, and continued, “But for all her crimes against Snow White, she was never put to trial as the Salem witches were.”</p><p>            Professor McKenna nodded. “Indeed.” He wrote the brunette’s observation on the board and circled it with chalk. “The Catholics, in particular, persecuted anyone they thought to be witches. It’s rooted in fear of the secular world: the most notable example of this in fiction is the novel <em>Dracula</em>, which you all have heard of, I’m sure.”</p><p>            David Nolan threw his hand in the air. “So then, why wasn’t the queen burned at the stake? I don’t really understand why the third degree burns from the iron shoes were fatal.”</p><p>            “Well, we can only guess, but the queen probably died from a combination of blood loss and shock.” Professor McKenna surmised. “It’s certainly a slow and painful death, which falls under the same category of being burned at the stake.” He noticed that they were about to run out of class time, and decided to end the discussion there.</p><p>            “Alright everyone, great work today!” His remark instantly had everyone close their books and put their notes away, relieved that English was over. “See you on Friday!”</p><p>            As Mary Margaret got up to leave, she realized she was starving, and once outside the classroom she pulled David aside and announced they were going downtown to Granny’s for lunch.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Granny’s Diner </strong>
</p><p>Hungover and exhausted from partying well into the night, Ruby Lucas stumbled into her grandmother’s diner dreading the morning rush. It was always a madhouse, given the sheer number of townspeople that needed their daily fix of coffee and scrambled eggs, but she wasn’t sure she could handle it in her present condition.</p><p>Ruby suppressed the urge to vomit and sought out her mother in the back of the diner, anticipating some sort of lecture about her lack of work ethic, and was not disappointed.</p><p>“Look who decided to grace us with her presence!” Anita spat, clearly overwhelmed by the number of tickets that still needed to be filled. “Do you even know what time it is?” She grabbed an order of bacon off the line that was obviously meant for Leroy and practically threw it at her daughter.   </p><p>“Sorry, Mama.” Ruby lamented, fully aware that they were understaffed because of her bad decisions. “Won’t happen again!” It most definitely would, knowing how much she loved Friday nights at the Kappa Sigma house, but the she-wolf wasn’t going to let up until she gave an acceptable apology.</p><p>“We’ll talk about it later.” Anita turned and pointed to the hot plate still in Ruby’s hand. “That needs to go to Leroy before he complains to your grandmother about the service again.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes and prepared to complain about having to deal with the town bastard so early in her shift when the meaty aroma from his entrée completely overpowered her nostrils. It was simultaneously the most mouth-watering and the most revolting thing she had ever smelled.</p><p>“Fine, I’ll go give Grumpy his precious bacon!” She grumbled as she recovered from the shock, masking her alarm with petulance. “One day I think we should let Granny hit him over the head with her rifle. He’s been asking for it for years.”</p><p> </p><p>Three hours later, Ruby was more than ready for her thirty-minute lunch break. It wasn’t <em>all </em>due to Leroy and his insufferable personality, but the resulting argument she had with him for delivering his breakfast a few minutes late contributed to most of her exhaustion. After taking the last order of her shift, the worn-down teenager sat at the counter and glared daggers at the offensive neon sign in the front window responsible for her worsening migraine, passionately wishing she could throw it into the dumpster behind the diner. As that and other increasingly violent thoughts were forming inside her throbbing head, Ruby perked up slightly at the sound of two familiar voices approaching the restaurant.</p><p>“…you didn’t tell me you had a game tomorrow!” That had to be Mary Margaret, her best friend of ten years.</p><p>“The one against the University of Maine? I swear I did!” And that was David, her jock boyfriend. They had been dating since they met freshman year of college, much to Ruby’s dismay. She liked him well enough, but he was such a bad influence on Mary Margaret. And coming from her, that was saying something.</p><p>“It’s an away game, David!” They were getting louder. “I won’t see you all day!” As their conversation continued, Ruby was thoroughly confused as to why she could effortlessly eavesdrop on their conversation from inside the diner, especially when the couple had yet to come into view.</p><p>When they finally crossed the threshold, Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. She desperately needed someone to talk to about whatever was happening to her lately, and Mary Margaret couldn’t have had better timing if she tried.</p><p>“Hey guys!” She jumped up from her barstool, nearly knocking it over in the process, and greeted her friends with a warm and enthusiastic hug. “Haven’t seen you two since last month! Can I get you a table?”</p><p>“Only if you’re not on break!” Mary Margaret insisted, aware that they had come close to the end of Ruby’s shift. “We would have been here earlier, but class got out late.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Ruby shrugged as she went to grab two menus from behind the counter. “What are friends for?” She led them over to an available booth by the jukebox and stood waiting to take their order.</p><p>“Plus, you won’t believe what we heard on the way over here.” David said as Mary Margaret requested a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup combo. “You know the kid that works as a barista over at Second Star Coffee? He went missing this morning.”</p><p>Ruby felt her chest tighten at the news. “What?” She couldn’t believe it, nor did she want to believe that anything so awful could happen in such a small town. “Was it Thomas or Felix?”</p><p>David asked for fish and chips, which she half-mindedly scribbled down on her notepad. “Felix.” He divulged, looking rather upset himself. “I didn’t know him that well, but he’s only a year younger than us, you know?”</p><p>“Thomas told us he went out to his car to get something and never came back inside.” Mary Margaret said as she lowered her voice. “What if there’s a serial killer in Storybrooke?”</p><p>“Double M, just because someone goes missing does not mean they’re dead!” Ruby shook her head at the ridiculous conspiracy theory as she pocketed her notepad. “The sheriff will find him soon.”</p><p>“Hopefully.” David grimaced. “I was watching <em>Unsolved Mysteries</em> last week, and the detectives said that finding the victim during the first 48 hours of the incident was critical.”</p><p>Mary Margaret nodded. “Right.” She glanced up at Ruby with the same nervous expression as her friend. “It’s just so unbelievable, you know? Nothing like this ever happens in Storybrooke!”</p><p>Ruby quickly looked over her shoulder for unattended patrons, and finding none, slid into the booth beside David. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but…” She hesitated. “…I went to Kappa Sigma last night and got absolutely wasted.”</p><p>“What else is new?” David coughed into his sleeve, earning a kick under the table from Mary Margaret.</p><p>“<em>Anyway,</em>” She glared at the athlete. “I woke up with one hell of a hangover, which wouldn’t have been a big deal, except it wasn’t the only thing I woke up with.” Ruby had dropped her voice so low she was close to inaudible. “I heard your conversation from up the street!”</p><p>Mary Margaret gasped. “How is that possible?” She stared at Ruby like she was going to shapeshift into a bat at any minute. “Wait! What did we say?”</p><p>“You were mad at David for not telling you he had an away game against the University of Maine tomorrow.” Ruby deadpanned. “He insisted he did, and you argued a bit before walking in here.”</p><p>David tensed. “Holy shit!” He didn’t know what to think. “Are you sure this isn’t some weird coincidence?”</p><p>“No, I’m not.” Ruby understood that it all sounded insane, but it was the truth, nonetheless. “But I also have no other explanation for my reaction earlier to Granny’s bacon. The smell was so intense I almost dropped the plate!”</p><p>Mary Margaret and David both frowned, confused and alarmed by the changes in their friend. “Yeah, that’s not normal.” Mary Margaret surmised as she rhythmically drummed her nails on the table, lost in thought. “I hate to say it, but I think you should schedule an appointment with Dr. Whale. This is more serious than a hangover.”</p><p>Ruby scowled. “Ugh, him?” She had seen him in the diner multiple times on dates with various women, and from their facial expressions he seemed like a grade A scumbag. “I’d rather grow fur and turn into a wolf!”</p><p>“You just might if we can’t figure out what’s wrong with you!” David reasoned as he crossed his arms. “Unfortunately, he’s all we got.”</p><p>The waitress didn’t want to admit that David was right, but her options were extremely limited at the moment. If she went to her mother with this, she’d end up at the hospital anyway. “Point taken.” She sighed. “There goes girls’ night at Chi Omega.”</p><p>Mary Margaret snorted. “Aren’t you hungover?” She couldn’t imagine binge drinking two nights in a row, but Ruby was a professional.</p><p>“Yeah,” the brunette admitted, “but I was really looking forward to the beer pong tournament tonight against Pi Beta Phi!”</p><p>The other teenagers simply groaned. “You’re impossible!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa</strong>
</p><p>            Across town, the convent was bustling with activity. Each sister had their own task to perform if they had any hope of making the deadline for the Miner’s Day festival at the end of the month, and the overly devout Mother Superior was beginning to think she had set her expectations too high.</p><p>             Her youngest charge, Astrid, had come to her with the invoice from the hardware store, and the matriarch nearly swore. “You ordered how many tanks of helium?” She asked as she marveled at the damning evidence printed in red ink. “This reads twelve dozen!”</p><p>            The young nun looked embarrassed. “I meant to order twelve.” She explained as if that made it any better. “Marco must have misheard me over the phone.”</p><p>            Mother Superior sighed. “I’ll handle it.” She walked through the courtyard with Astrid in tow, muttering to herself about the girl’s carelessness.  </p><p>            Feeling guilty, the young nun reluctantly confessed her dilemma. “They’re non-refundable.” She winced as Mother Superior stopped dead in her tracks and reflexively crumpled the thin strip of paper in her hand.</p><p>            “What?” The outburst was loud enough to garner the attention of all the other sisters, who were staring at the pair bewildered. “Sister Astrid, need I remind you that the remaining funds were explicitly set aside for Mr. Gold?” Mother Superior was on the verge of hyperventilating at the thought of angering their sociopathic landlord. “Do you know how he feels about us?”</p><p>It was suffice to say that Astrid did not need reminding, as the thought had already crossed her mind when she first noticed her colossal mistake. “Yes, ma’am!” She nodded, terrified that she had lost them the convent.</p><p>“Then you had better pray to Saint Meissa for guidance.” Mother Superior advised with a brief touch on the shoulder. “Those candles aren’t going to sell themselves.”</p><p> </p><p>            Meanwhile, sixteen year-old rebel Lily Page couldn’t care less about the Miner’s Day festival. In her opinion, it was a cleverly disguised fundraiser for the convent that masqueraded as some annual local tradition. The candles were handmade, sure, but they weren’t worth the hefty price Mother Superior charged for them. She could get better ones at the mall.</p><p>            All of this was at the forefront of her mind when Sister Matilda noticed she was no longer tying ribbons around the merchandise. “Lilith!” The nun scolded. “We still have three boxes that need to be decorated!” She set one down in front of the scowling teen to prove her point and resumed work on her own cache of candles.</p><p>            “For the last time, it’s Lily!” She seethed. “I’ll never understand how a nun like Mother Superior could name a child fucking <em>Lilith</em>.” Over the years, Lily had come to believe that she must have been born with devil horns and cloven feet for the way the prude bitch treated her. It wasn’t her fucking fault! She didn’t choose to be an orphan!</p><p>            Alas, Sister Matilda didn’t offer an explanation. “Lily,” she warned, patience for the troublemaker running thin, “language!”  </p><p>Having been reprimanded repeatedly on her profanity, the teenager rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and rose from her chair. “Is that really the best you can do?” She asked. “<em>Christ</em>, lady, you need to work on your technique!”</p><p>            Lily walked away before the nun could react, balking at the thought of enduring another one of Sister Matilda’s sanctimonious monologues about womanly virtue. She’d rather gouge her eyes out with a rusty fork.</p><p> </p><p> “…those candles aren’t going to sell themselves.” Mother Superior quipped as she said her goodbyes to Sister Astrid, sighing heavily when she heard the telltale angry stomp of Lilith’s combat boots on the flagstone.</p><p>“Lilith!” She was nearing the end of her patience with the girl. “Ladies do not lumber about like an elephant!” The nun chastised as Lily came within earshot, pleased when she willingly headed in her direction without her signature scowl.</p><p>“Could have fooled me with those clogs.” The teen deadpanned. “Did you dig them out of your grandmother’s closet?”</p><p>Mother Superior was not amused in the slightest. “If you would please save the juvenile remarks for another day,” she snapped, “then we might be able to discuss whatever’s on your mind.”</p><p>Lily immediately frowned. “There’s nothing to discuss, I’m fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from her overbearing guardian. “But if you could tell Sister Matilda to cease and desist with my full name, that would be great.”</p><p>            “You were named after Adam’s first wife, not a demon.” Mother Superior said with full conviction. “Although, you’re right, most don’t see it that way.”</p><p>            “Yeah, no shit.” Lily grumbled, ignoring the nun’s offended countenance. “What was wrong with the name my biological parents gave me?” Lily had wanted to know the answer to this question ever since she learned to write. “Was it too masculine or something?”</p><p>            Mother Superior shook her head. “No.” She replied, surprising the teen with her candid reply. “You had no other name when we found you.”</p><p>            Lily had suspected as much. “So, you never actually met my parents?” She was thrilled to finally obtain some answers from the strict matriarch, but she hadn’t been prepared for the disappointment that was slowly setting in. “Or learned why I was left on your doorstep?”</p><p>            “The only thing they left you with was your necklace.” Mother Superior explained as she inclined her head toward the odd pendant hanging from the girl’s neck. “I’m sorry, Lily. I know how desperately you wanted those answers.”</p><p>As her hand reached up to unconsciously fiddle with the aforementioned heirloom, Lily shrugged. “It’s not your fault.” She rationalized, feeling somewhat defeated. “But you didn’t have to take me in either, so thanks. I guess.”</p><p>The nun was quick to assure her that she was very much wanted at the convent and that she could never overstay her welcome. Lily shuffled about awkwardly, thrown off-guard and at a complete loss for words. Subsequently, the conversation skidded to a halt until they were interrupted by someone loudly knocking at the main entrance of the abbey.</p><p>            “Ugh, again?” Lily grumbled. “Doesn’t Sister Maya have her own key?” Her annoyance was due to the fact that the convent’s youngest member had locked herself out three times in one week, which was a major inconvenience to the lazy teen.   </p><p>            Mother Superior nodded. “It’s not Sister Maya this time.” She squared her shoulders to appear more intimidating for their impending guest. “Today’s the first of the month.”</p><p>            “Oh joy.” Lily deadpanned as Sister Matilda greeted them at the door. “Doesn’t he have better things to do than to harass a bunch of god-fearing women for a piece of paper?”</p><p>            “You would think so.” The matriarch muttered, schooling her expression into one of determination. “Especially since he’s not going to be happy about leaving here empty-handed.”</p><p>            Before Lily could ask what she meant, Mother Superior’s entire posture stiffened when their sociopathic landlord came into view, as in his place stood the figure of his equally sociopathic mother.</p><p>
  
</p><p>To Morgana, the argument that had caused her to fall out of favor with Blue felt like a lifetime ago. They hadn’t crossed paths since then, but the sorceress was sure that her former queen kept tabs on her human achievements in Camelot. She didn’t necessarily have proof, but her son, whom she had sent to another realm entirely, had repeatedly found himself entangled in the hypocritical fairy’s self-serving schemes.  </p><p>            So, when Robin of Locksley cast the Dark Curse, Morgana rightfully knew that the meddling pest would be on the receiving end of karma. Here, in the convent, Maeve and all her children were essentially feeble little sheep! Granted, Camelot’s sorceress was still trying to understand this new religion called Catholicism, but anything that kept the Blue Fairy indebted to her darling boy was good enough for her. </p><p>“What’s the matter, love?” Morgana smirked as she stood before her nemesis and reveled in the humbled woman’s discomfort. “Were you expecting someone else?” She taunted, thrilled when it had the desired effect of making the infamous fairy squirm just a bit longer in her presence at the mere thought of Rumplestiltskin.</p><p>“Yes,” Blue replied as she politely backed away from the sorceress, “your son.” Her discomfort was evident in both her body language and voice, which prompted Morgana to move the proceedings along before the other nuns had her thrown out of the abbey.</p><p> “I’m afraid he’s quite busy with the pawn shop at the moment.” The imposing brunette tried her best to come off as apologetic, but it was never her strong suit. “But, my afternoon was free, so here I am.”</p><p>Then, seemingly out of nowhere, someone other than Maeve coughed “Bitch!” rather loudly into the sleeve of their jacket.</p><p>Insulted, and perhaps somewhat intrigued, Morgana directed her attention toward the strange girl and raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “And who might you be?” She asked as she regarded the teen with a scrutiny that was normally reserved for Arthur’s father. “I don’t recall Mother Superior mentioning that there were any children staying here.”</p><p>More defensive than Blue in her response to Morgana’s presence, the stranger glowered at her and hissed through clenched teeth. “Name’s Lily, and I’ve been an orphan since forever.”</p><p> “Nice to meet you, Lily.” Morgana replied as the teenager finally met her gaze, taken aback by her elongated reptilian pupils. “Even though it would seem that the feeling isn’t mutual.”</p><p>Lily didn’t return the sentiment. “Just take the money and go!” She growled as Mother Superior dug through her purse for the check, feeling nothing but contempt for Ms. Millionaire and her condescending attitude. “We have enough shit to deal with besides you and your bastard son!”</p><p>Not used to being spoken to in such a vulgar manner, Morgana bristled as she pocketed the check in her own stylish handbag and snapped, “Watch your tone, young lady!” Just as she was about to put the insolent child in her place, she noticed the singular piece of eggshell hanging from Lily’s neck. After stealing another glance at the girl’s eyes, the sorceress knew the trinket had to have come from a dragon’s egg.</p><p>Oblivious to the older woman’s revelation, Lily replied with a sarcastic “Or what? You’ll ground me?” and used the opportunity to promptly excuse herself from the conversation while cursing under her breath. </p><p>As the two adults stood speechless, one in shock over Lily’s rude behavior and the other lost in thought, Morgana had barely heard Blue’s rambling apology. “And you claim to have raised the girl?” She muttered. “My son could have done a better job.” </p><p>Tired of the insults, Blue not-so-delicately hinted that it was time for her to leave by showing her the door. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.” She commented dryly as her landlord’s mother crossed the threshold. “What’s his name again? Ratatouille?”</p><p>“Robert.” Morgana answered, her mood worsening as she refused to tolerate such slights on her family. “And may I ask what Lily is short for?”</p><p>To her surprise, the nun flinched at her question. “Lilith.” She admitted as Morgana’s manicured nails reflexively dug into the wooden frame. “I don’t know what possessed me that night.”</p><p> The famed sorceress choked out a laugh to mask her sudden gasp. “You’ve already said her name, Maeve. Don’t be daft. It doesn’t suit you.” She descended the perron of the convent as quickly as she could without a second thought, desperately needing to talk to her son about this development.</p><p>In lieu of a response, Mother Superior remained on the porch and watched Morgana head for the pawn shop, wholly ignorant to the fact that she had just revealed Lily’s true identity to the mother of the Dark One.    </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Storybrooke General Hospital</strong>
</p><p>Ruby drove herself to the emergency room after work and checked in at the reception desk with the patience of a bored toddler, frustrated when the attendant on the other side of the glass handed her a clipboard and some paperwork instead of immediately calling for a triage nurse. However, she knew that they weren’t going to break hospital protocol for one teenage girl with a headache, so she begrudgingly sat down in the waiting area and flipped through an out-of-date issue of <em>Vogue.</em></p><p>It didn’t really interest her, but reading about Madonna was better than listening to three colicky babies and some guy complaining about his stomach ulcer for all eternity. And then, when she was about to complain to the reception desk, one of the triage nurses finally called her name and led her back to the examination room.</p><p>            As they were walking down the hallway, her nurse, whose name Ruby already forgot, asked if she could verify her name and date of birth so she could receive treatment.</p><p>            “Ruby Gemma Lucas, born August 13, 1964.” She rattled off monotonously, confirming what was printed on her ID bracelet. “And before you ask, I’m here by myself.”</p><p>            “That’s alright.” The nurse assured as she had Ruby step up on the dreaded scales to record her height and weight. “What brings you in today?”</p><p>            The nineteen-year-old truthfully had no idea. “Uh, I’m really hungover, for one.” She confessed, aware that it wasn’t exactly what they considered an emergency. “But I also woke up this morning with a super intense sense of smell and hearing.”</p><p>            “How intense, Miss Lucas?” The nurse prompted as she made notes in Ruby’s chart. “Describe it as best you can.”</p><p>            She scrunched her nose in an attempt to summarize what she was experiencing. “You know how dogs have a better sense of smell than humans? It’s like that.”</p><p>            At Ruby’s response, the nurse’s hand stalled mid-sentence, completely baffled by her patient’s symptoms. “Well, Miss Lucas,” she paused, collecting her thoughts, “let me page the on-call physician and have him examine you.”</p><p>            The teenager nodded, satisfied with her decision. “Should I change into a gown?”</p><p>            “I think that might be best.” The nurse affirmed as she wrote Ruby’s information on the dry-erase board with a marker. “You may be here a while.”</p><p> </p><p>            As the head of the neurology department at Storybrooke General, Dr. Victor Whale preferred to take on the cases that were virtually undiagnosable. To him, those patients were a puzzle just waiting to be solved, and he lived for the thrill of it. So when his pager went off the afternoon of September 1, he excitedly rubbed his hands together and reported to the nurses’ station over at emergency.</p><p>            His patient ended up being a nineteen-year-old female with no previous medical history. In her file, the nurse had listed a series of symptoms that one would normally encounter at a veterinarian’s office, not a human hospital. He now understood why he had been paged, as this case was neurological in nature.</p><p>            Determined to help the girl, Dr. Whale entered Room 3 and introduced himself to Ruby Lucas, one of the waitresses at Granny’s Diner. She didn’t appear to be violently ill, but once she started to answer his questions he became as baffled as her triage nurse.    </p><p>            “Miss Lucas,” he began, regarding her with great interest, “I can honestly say that there are currently no known neurological disorders for what you’re describing.”</p><p>            She bit her lip. “Really? Would it help if I said I can sense your body heat from this side of the room?”</p><p>            If it weren’t for the fact that she was still hungover, the neurologist would have written her off as intoxicated or otherwise inebriated. “That’s interesting.” He remarked, deep in thought. “What do you mean by that?”</p><p>            Ruby shrugged. “Well, I can tell you’re running a slight fever.” She said as she pointed to his forehead. “And I think you have an infected cut on your arm.”</p><p>            Dr. Whale believed her, mainly due to the fact that he had indeed sliced his forearm open on accident with a kitchen knife. Highly concerned for her health, he closed her file and decided then and there to write her a prescription for a generic dopamine antagonist drug. With any luck, that would solve her unique set of problems.</p><p>            “Take one tablet three times a day.” He recommended as her triage nurse stuck her head in the room, probably wanting to know if Ruby could be discharged and sent home. “If you don’t see improvement in a few weeks, make an appointment with the neurology department. They’ll add you to my schedule.” The nineteen-year-old thanked him as he signed off on her release papers and left the girl in the care of the nursing staff, returning to his office with a sense of foreboding.</p><p>He wasn’t above asking for a second opinion, but Storybrooke General wasn’t exactly a top-tier hospital with a sizeable roster of reputable doctors and well-equipped facilities. No, if he wanted to shed light on this unusual case, he’d have to reach out to an old acquaintance from medical school and cross his fingers.</p><p>            This called for the expertise of world-renown Dutch scientist, Abraham Van Helsing.  </p>
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